The Path Out of Hell
by Maxenby
Summary: There were two distinct sides to Sirius, the fun loving and rowdy prankster, and this other side that he had been careful to keep away from everyone, which always lurked beneath the surface. TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic self harm, strong themes of abuse and mental illness. Sirius centric, extremely dark. Inspired by the quote: "The path out of hell is through misery."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Strong trigger warning, graphic description of self harm, strong themes of mental illness and abuse.**

Sirius had let his friends leave without him, knowing full well that it wasn't a good idea given the dark turn his thoughts had been taking. He waved them out with a smile, telling them he would be down in time to see the beginning of the match, not at all letting on that something was troubling him, and so they left without hesitating.

He knew it wasn't rational to be upset that they had left so easily, considering he hadn't told them anything was wrong, but he couldn't help but feel the sting of rejection. He drew the curtains around his bed shut and sat without moving for a few moments, unsure of what he was going to do. There were two distinct sides to Sirius, the fun loving and rowdy prankster, and this other side that he had been careful to keep away from everyone, which always lurked beneath the surface. The fun and outgoing side of him loved life, loved being at Hogwarts and thrived when he was away from his family. The other, darker side of him while more like an echo in the back of his mind most of the time he was at Hogwarts, took when he was unoccupied. It was almost like he could distract himself from the self destructive voice in his head as long as he was engaged in some activity, but as soon as the distractions fell away it grew louder and louder until finally he gave into it's wishes. Doing as the voice (or whatever it was inside his head) demanded gave him a small break, during which the urges would subside, until the next day or the next incident when they would start over again. It was a cycle that Sirius felt trapped in, he couldn't figure out a way to escape the cycles grip and he certainly couldn't ask his friends for help. He wasn't crazy, or maybe he was, he really wasn't sure sometimes, but he was certain that he didn't want anyone to know, he didn't want to give them the chance to think that he was insane.

The day had started well enough, he woke in time for breakfast and joined his friends while they ate and chatted about the quidditch match about to take place between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. James was particularly excited to beat them and get one step closer to playing for the house cup, remarking that the Ravenclaw _might_ have had a chance if they pulled their noses out of their books long enough to practice. He was looking forward to the chance to play and have his parents watch, they would only come if it was the final match of the school year because there were so many games through the year they wouldn't possibly be able to make it to all of them. Sirius had pointed out that if he actually played, his own parents would never come and support him because of their fierce loyalty to the rival house Slytherin. Remus rolled his eyes, not knowing anything about Sirius' home life he always assumed that it was perfect, considering the state of Sirius' robes and how he always had enough money to buy anything he wanted from Hogsmeade.

 _"_ _Here he goes, complaining about his perfect, rich family again."_ Remus' words bounced around in Sirius' head. Remus had probably had it tougher than anyone in their little group, growing up poor and then of course there was the werewolf thing and so he often scoffed at the others complaints about their own home lives. It was his own fault that Remus had no idea of the hell he went through behind the closed doors of 12 Grimmauld Place, he reminded himself sternly, how could they possibly know anything about it if he refused to open up about it. He shied away from questions about his family, often deflecting with humour and gave everyone the impression that he was treated well. Which of course was the opposite of how he was treated, he was often starved or beaten, or both, for doing something wrong. His parents had never kept it secret that they didn't like him, and that they would have gotten rid of him if it had been socially acceptable to do so. Still, it made him feel like shit when anyone commented on his family.

He felt selfish and spoilt for complaining, and the little echo of the voice in his head grew louder. _He's right, you always complain and you've never been beaten when you didn't deserve it._ He let the voice continue without trying to argue, knowing full where where it would lead him. _You don't deserve to be as happy as you are now, you are rotten, useless, a disappointment. You deserve to hurt, you deserve the pain, you know you want to do it._

He didn't cry, though it hurt to think those things, he had always been taught that only weaklings cried, and weaklings got beaten in his house so he had learned early on not to let it happen. His brow was tense, his jaw clenched. It was only a matter of time before he would have to do it, before the voice in his head would win again, and so he decided it was better to do it now. He reached under his bed and pulled out a small box, his heart racing. He opened it and carefully laid out his tools in front of him, needing the order and the ritual as much as the physical release.

He picked up the blade, it was shining silver and clean- it always had to be clean, he couldn't risk infection, he couldn't see a healer about this and so he did it in the safest way he knew how. He tugged back his sleeve to reveal rows of scars, each in a different stage of healing, the oldest ones where white and faded, the newest different shades of red and purple. He carefully placed the blade to the skin on his forearm and began to drag across, applying as much force as he could muster. If they weren't deep enough he new he would have to do it again until the voice was satisfied and so he tried to do them exactly as the picture in his mind told him too. Blood began to run down his arm, it was red and warm and oddly comforting. He wiped it away to see the damage, and his heart sank- he knew it wasn't enough and so he began the process again. The dragging, the pressure, the blood dripping. Over and over and over again. He continued as if in a trance, his movements automatic and yet deliberate. He felt a sense of calm begin to wash over him and new that he would be done soon, whatever dark requirement his mind had set he had almost met. He was in the rhythm of it now, and wasn't ready to stop, he decided he would allow himself a few more before he cleaned the wounds and bandaged them. Sirius had completely lost track of time, consumed by the task at hand and slightly dizzy with endorphins and blood loss, his arm was torn open and he would soon stop and admire his work. He pressed the blade down for one last swipe.

"I knew you'd gone back to sleep!" A familiar voice shocked him and he quickly reached for the blanket to cover his arm and the evidence scattered all over the bed, but it was too late. The curtains opened and he saw Remus' amused face turn to shock, all colour drained out of him. "What the fuck?" He took in the state of his friend, sickened with concern by what he saw.

Sirius swore he could feel his heart stop, and for a second hoped that he would die right then and there rather than deal with explaining this mess. "Go away." His mouth moved without permission from his brain, and he scrambled to come up with something better to say.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Trigger warning: Self harm, blood, mental illness.**

Remus didn't budge from his position at the foot of Sirius' bed, he couldn't even if he wanted too. His feel felt as if they had be fixing charmed to the floor. He wasn't squeamish, in fact he was quite used to cuts and scrapes considering he usually had a few to deal with every month, though right now the sight of his best friend like this made his head spin and his stomach lurch.

Sirius had told him to leave, and looked up at Remus expecting him to do so, expecting him to run straight to McGonagall or to Madame Pomfrey, but he simply stood at the end of Sirius' bed for several minutes which passed as slowly as a double potions lesson. Sirius was becoming more agitated and less worried with each passing second, his blade still pressed into his skin he hadn't dared to move since Remus opened the curtain. He worried that his ritual had been interrupted and that he would have to do it all over again as soon as he was left alone, if he was ever left alone again he thought bitterly to himself. If it had been appropriate Sirius would have made a joke about Remus joining him in bed, he would have asked if he was just going to stand there or if he was going to take his clothes off, and though the situation was tense and uncomfortable Sirius had to fight the urge to say it.

He watched as Remus' face turned from surprise, to utter shock, to anger, and watched it finally settle on disappointment and stay there for a moment or two before he moved or spoke a word. Sirius would have rather anger, it was something he was used to, someone was always angry with him but few cared enough to ever be disappointed, and his heart sank feeling like it was finding a new home in stomach amongst the intestines. He saw Remus' reach for his wand and point it at Sirius' arm.

"Vulnera Sanen-"

"No!" Sirius' voiced was raised, desperation creeping into his face. "No, please just leave it." He was quieter almost pleading, Remus had never seen him like this before.

"I know what I'm doing, Padfoot." Sirius knew this was true, Remus had healed plenty of his own wounds after the full moon each month, out of necessity it had been some of the first magic that he ever learned to perform. "Please let me help you." He sat on the end of the bed and reached out for Sirius' wounded arm.

Sirius instinctively pulled his arm back out of reach, causing more blood to flow out of them down his arm and onto the sheets of his bed. He had to let them heal naturally, it was part of the whole process and letting someone fuck it up would mean he would have to reopen them. "No, really Moony, It's nothing. I can handle it." He just wanted the other boy to leave so he could bandage them up and forget this had ever happened, though he knew that Remus wouldn't drop it so easily.

Remus raised his eyebrows skeptically, "It's not nothing Padfoot, this is serious. You've really hurt yourself." He frowned and looked again at the other boys wounds. "I should go and get someone, you've lost a lot of blood."

"No. No, it's fine. I know how to deal with this. Please just let me clean up and I'll come and talk to you in a minute." He was trying his best to remain rational, when all he wanted was to defend himself.

"Jesus Padfoot, how often do you do this?" He had noticed the older scars, as well as how calm and in control Sirius seemed to be and deduced that this wasn't the first time he had done something like this.

"I'll talk to you in a minute." Sirius replied abruptly, willing Remus to leave.

"If you think I'm leaving you alone-"

"You can wait just outside, just let me clean up in private and I'll open the curtains again and tell you everything." He cut him off, feeling anger and annoyance bubble up inside of him. It was his body and his life after all, and Remus was acting as though he didn't have every right to do what ever wanted to himself. Remus slowly moved off the bed and Sirius angrily pulled the curtains tight, obscuring himself from view.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to force a plan to pop into his head. When nothing came he resigned himself to starting the clean up process. He gently wiped away the blood coating his arm, not noticing the sting of the cloth over the fresh wounds, his mind busy with worry. He didn't know what to say to his friend who was just on the other side of the thin bed curtains, he didn't know what Remus would say, and the uncertainty of it was almost enough to make him dizzy (though that could very well have been the blood loss). Once his arm was cleaned to his satisfaction he applied a thin layer of antibacterial ointment to fight possible infection, and began to bandage his arm winding the clean white cloth around his arm applying slight pressure to help stop the wounds from reopening and bleeding through his robes. He pulled his sleeve down, packed up his tools and first aid, magicked away the blood from his sheets and robes, slid the box back under the bed and opened the curtain hoping to find that Remus had left and he could have a few moments of peace. Remus, of course, hadn't budged and was waiting for his answers. Sirius didn't want to talk about this in the dormitories, afraid someone else would hear, so he stood and silently motioned for Remus to follow him.

The pair walked silently, Remus trailing slightly behind, as Sirius led the way to one of the deserted tunnels under the school grounds- they walked a little way into it and Sirius stopped, turned, and abruptly sat on the floor waiting for Remus to speak. The look on Sirius face was almost enough to break Remus' heart, he looked hurt, and scared, and somehow small even though he was taller than Remus by half a foot at least. Remus sat opposite him and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, he wasn't sure where to begin or what he even wanted to say and so they sat like this for a while, neither boy breaking the silence.

Sirius sighed, and knowing that they would have to discuss it sooner or later, he spoke softly, "What do you want to know?"

"Well," Remus matched the other boys volume. "I want to know what you were doing exactly." He was speaking as gently as he could, but he felt fiercely protective of his friends and so was angry that something was hurting one of them.

"I was cutting myself." Sirius said simply, without any further explanation. He looked so deeply ashamed that Remus wanted to stop talking about it, hug his friend, and forget that it ever happened, though he knew that wouldn't help at all in the long run.

"Why?"

"I can't tell you why. I'm sorry." It wasn't that Sirius didn't want to tell him why, it was that he genuinely didn't know how to explain it. He owed Remus an explanation, and he wasn't sure how he was going to provide him with one without making himself look like the perfect candidate for the Saint Mungo's mental ward. "Please don't tell anyone." He was pleading, he couldn't risk anyone finding out, he couldn't bare the thought of his family knowing, sure that it would result in one of their harsh punishments or even being locked away, something Sirius would rather die than happen. The thought of never again being able to come to Hogwarts, or see his friends was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

"I don't know what the right thing to do is." Remus admitted, he was always the one most concerned with doing the right thing, not necessarily concerned with following the rules but more worried about doing what was morally right. He was conflicted. On the one hand Sirius kept a pretty big secret for Remus, on the other he was worried that his friend was hurting and he had no idea how to help him, or stop him from doing it again. "How often do you do it?" He asked, hoping that the answer would clarify what he should do with this disturbing information.

"Not often at all," Sirius was lying, and he was good at it. He'd had to lie about things for as long as he could remember and so had no trouble convincing people that his stories were true. "Especially not often at school." That part was true, he did it less frequently at school than he did at home. He was always scared that someone would walk in on him doing it, as Remus had done today, so he put it off for as long as he could during term.

Remus was out of questions, though he hadn't gotten all of the answers, and simply nodded in response, taking his time replying. "Okay, I won't tell anyone. But if you do it again, or even if you want to do it again, please tell me."

Sirius nodded unconvincingly, he definitely wasn't going to go running to Remus every time the voices in his head came back. "I'll think about it." He replied honestly.

"You help me so much," Remus' voice was thick with emotion. "Let me return the favour."

Sirius wasn't sure what to say, it felt odd to have someone care so much about him, he knew that he and the others were like brothers but never really knew what it was like to have family who wanted what was best for him. He had always assumed that they simply loved him for his antics and humour, and he was truly shocked to know that Remus loved him even at his worst. He thought for the first time that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't unloveable or unwanted and his eyes started to tear. He lowered his head to hide the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Remus didn't push him to speak, just simply sat with him, patiently waiting.


End file.
